|You can't kick me out of NHS for being bitter! I hope you drown in a puddle of your own bile.
||[Oct. 17th, 2006|09:44 pm]
|||||Baby food, anyone?||]|
|||||Poni Hoax, Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti||]|
My mood has bottomed out at "complete and utter loathing of all two-legged beings" in the past week and a half, and I'm almost enjoying this plane of misanthropy. I can't think of anything to say about that topic that won't make me sound like Dahmer, so I'm just going to leave it at that.
However, my painfully sappy and nauseatingly cuddly English teacher is not so pleased with my attitude. Sadly enough, she is also the advisor for the Nat'l Honor Society, a longstanding organization of which I happen to be a vaguely proud & involved member. Apparently, she doesn't think that I am "NHS material" given the fact that I have no desire to "promote unity and compassion" among my high school brethren. She'll have to drag my fucking corpse out of NHS, because my membership looks good on my college applications and I'm not going to be kicked out for refusing to be a worthless cheery puffball. I may try to contort my face into a slight grin (as opposed to my standard sneers and grimaces) at the next meeting, though, just for appearances.
In happier news, Art Brut is coming to Ithaca this Saturday and I am so excited that I might just die. Most tragically, it is an 18+ show and I will not be able to attend on my own as I had hoped. Instead, I am making like a sandwich-eater and bringing my mumsicle along for the ride. Does this make me wholly pathetic and worthless in every possible way? Probably, yes. Do I care at all? No. Not at all. My mom and I are going to see Art Brut and it's going to be WICKED BEYOND HUMAN COMPREHENSION.